


Synchronicity

by ElwritesFanworks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Affection, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Best Friends, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Love, M/M, Omega Verse, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scents & Smells, Self-Lubrication, Short One Shot, Tropes, Wet & Messy, but it's clear they both have the hots for each other and this is not dubcon, could be read as first time or they're in an early stage non-exclusive type thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElwritesFanworks/pseuds/ElwritesFanworks
Summary: Self-indulgent little porny one shot wherein beta!Starsky happens to drop by just in time to help omega!Hutch through the worst of his heat. Hutch has kept his omega status hidden, but Starsky rolls with the new information. Very porny. Just had to write something upbeat and smutty and somehow came up with this.





	Synchronicity

* * *

One foot in the door and Starsky could smell it. Honey, musk, salt, cinnamon-sugar, fresh sweat. It was the distinct odor of an omega in heat, and Starsky doubted Hutch would ever risk fooling around with a girl that dangerously fertile, even before he heard his partner’s voice bleating brokenly from his room.

“Who’s there? Ah… a-announce yourself –”

“Only me, buddy.”

“Starsk…”

He could practically taste Hutch relaxing, an undercurrent of tangy fear dropping away and leaving the air even headier. If Starsky _had_ been an intruding alpha, that sort of display would have had him breaking the bedroom door down and tearing the blond apart in seconds.

He took a step forward, listening to the agonized cries for a minute, conflicted. On the one hand, if Hutch had wanted him to know about this, he’d have told him. On the other, Hutch was in trouble – sure, it wasn’t work-related trouble, but still. This wasn’t the kind of thing you just forgot about and abandoned someone to. The certainty Starsky felt was reassuring. Hutch would check up on him if they were in each other’s shoes – he had no doubt about that.

Hutch groaned again. Starsky was reminded of holding him close while he kicked the drugs he’d been dosed with, speaking soft and gentle to him, coaxing him through his withdrawal. He’d felt good like that, being useful – being able to help. Horrible for Hutch of course, but good in a selfish way – he liked caring for his partner, and in light of the information that presently made itself known, he didn’t change his mind.  Such a discovery – not of himself, because he’d become used to his devoted impulses where the other man was concerned, but of his partner’s nature – left multiple questions to fight for supremacy in his head. How did Hutch qualify for the police academy as an omega? Was it even in his file? Did Dobey know?

Questions could come later, Starsky thought as another desperate cry reached his ears, and called out.

“I’m comin’ in, okay?”

Hutch just whimpered in response.

In retrospect, it explained a lot. Hutch had his pride – and admitting something like this would be highly humiliating. Starsky could count the number of male omegas he’d ever met on one hand and they’d all been either hookers or addicts. They weren’t useful for much else, or so people always cynically assumed – sterile, they still had a compulsive urge to be bred if they didn’t take their suppressants, which made them easily seduced, distractible, and unpredictable. They were poor employees – miss a day’s pill and face a week or so of absence. They were stereotyped as flighty, emotional, and while recent attempts to hire more women into the workforce made progress, male omegas were, if anything, seen increasingly as more ‘feminine’ than actual women. Starsky tried to be open-minded, but even he could remember laughing at wise-cracks with guys at the station while Hutch rolled his eyes and called him immature, voice tense and clipped. He’d thought it was just that – Hutch mad at him for goofing off. _Keepin’ this to yourself can’t have been easy, huh? Afraid the guys at work would give you a hard time? Afraid I would’ve?_

In all honesty, part of Starsky was a little hurt that he hadn’t been trusted with his friend’s secret. Still, in the moment, all that really mattered was Hutch calling out to him, needy and feverish.

Hutch in heat was a sight for sore eyes. Starsky was confident enough in his masculinity to admit that. Golden hair and flushed skin writhing in tangles of sheets, red cock weeping like a leaky faucet as he pleaded for relief. The only thing that ruined it was the look of misery on his face.

“That looks like it hurts,” Starsky ventured gently.

“Got a – ah – cramp in my ha…” Hutch arched his back punching the mattress in frustration.

“Cramp in your hand?”

Hutch nodded.

“Jeez, you been at this a while, then, huh?”

“It’s – I need – fingers. Inside me, it hurts – oh _God,_ Starsk –”

“Whoa there, buddy – calm down, I got you. I got you…”

“Got me,” Hutch whimpered, pulling his knees up towards his chest. Starsky could see how slick he was, could smell him stronger now, and he was only a beta but damn it, he was a man – he couldn’t _ignore_ how good Hutch looked and smelled. His prick throbbed at the sight, instinct and affection merging together with the knowledge that his partner trusted him enough to let him ease his heat.

“Starsky… c’mon,” Hutch crooned.

“You want me to –”

“Anything.”

Starsky nodded, swallowing hard.

“Okay.”

The bed dipped as he knelt on it, stretching out on his side next to Hutch. He touched his thigh gently and the blond whined, urging him on.

“No teasing,” he begged. “Please.”

Three fingers, then.

Sure enough, Hutch had been at it for a while, and his body stretched to accommodate the intrusion quickly and without difficulty. Hutch groaned, burying his face in Starsky’s shoulder.

“That feel good?”

“Mm…”

“Yeah, you’ve been strugglin’ all by yourself. Must’ve been real lonely with nothin’ but a centerfold and your hand for company.”

“Didn’t need a… centerfold…” Hutch blabbed, eyes glazed and unfocused. “Just you – just the thought of you –”

“Of me helpin’ you? Stoppin’ by – lendin’ a hand – that turn you on?”

Hutch sobbed, scalding hot around Hutch’s fingers.

“How’d you know I’d show up?”

“I d-didn’t. Nngh… hoped – hoped you would.”

“When you called in sick, I knew. Somehow I knew even before seeing you.”

“Synchronicity,” Hutch panted, tossing his head. Sweat stood out on his brow and temples, running over his reddened face and dripping along the column of his throat. Starsky couldn’t resist; he kissed him, sucked the skin just to the side of his Adam’s apple, and again over his pulse point, and again on his jaw. He lowered his voice, breath hot on Hutch’s ear.

“God, you sure are wet. That all you, or did you put some oil or –”

“It’s all me.”

“Mm… smells delicious. Like caramel corn and wood smoke and sex all rolled into one.”

“Don’t describe it,” Hutch groaned, blushing. “That’s obscene.”

“It’s sexy. You’re sexy.”

Starsky punctuated his point by shimmying down Hutch’s body to suck a bruise onto his hip bone. He worked his little finger in with its brothers and licked up some of the pre-ejaculate that left slick traces on his best friend’s belly.

“F-fuck,” Hutch stuttered, letting his hand flop, exhausted, on top of Starsky’s head, ruffling his hair gently. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I’ll show you crazy,” Starsky grinned and shoved his face down next to his hand, licking at where Hutch’s hole stretched tight around his fingers. He caught hold of Hutch’s erection with his free hand and stroked him, fast and rough, and the combined attention was enough to push him over the edge. Starsky had just enough presence of mind to look up in time to see Hutch’s balls drawing up as he came, shooting all over his chest.

As he came down from it, Hutch had the coherency to press his palm affectionately to Starsky’s cheek.

“Thanks,” he managed, breathing ragged and heavy. “I’m glad you stopped by.”

Starsky answered Hutch’s boyish grin with one of his own.

“Yeah, lucky you, huh?”

He patted his hip fondly.

“Can I ask you something?”

Hutch’s face fell.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you – it’s just that –”

“Don’t worry about that. We'll have time to talk later. I just wanted to know – how many more rounds do you usually have in you?”

Hutch relaxed, visibly relieved that sophisticated conversation was not expected of him.

“It depends. Another day’s worth, at least. You don’t… you don’t have to stay if you have plans or don’t want to. I mean, I sort of just caught you up in this and –”

“Whaddaya know? My schedule is completely clear. 24 hours with nothin’ to do.”

Hutch beamed at that and reached for him, enfolding his partner in a warm, sticky, sweet-slick embrace.

“I think we can probably think of a few things…”


End file.
